Cauchemar
by frayedoptician
Summary: The chosen children have grown up a bit, but have only grown closer together over the years. So what happens when someone from their past returns and attacks them in a way they never expected? Their strength, both as individuals and as a team will be tested. Adventure and 02.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Well, not digimon or any of the characters, anyways.**

 **Note:**

 **So this is the first chapter. I'm sort of testing the waters with this chapter so if the response is positive I'll keep going with it and otherwise... I guess I'll still keep going with it. So make sure you let me know what you think!**

Chapter 1

Taichi stood looking out over a vast forest. Far below him an ocean of green branches rippled in a strong wind and he could hear the distant sound of a powerful river. He was frozen on the edge of a large rock formation that jutted out precariously from the scree cliffs which extended below him to the ground, and above him higher than he could see. His brain was unable to find an object to anchor itself to, causing him to feel dizzy, and his breath came quickly. More quickly than he would have expected, given the serenity of the scene before him. There was a light mist that softened the view from his perch and aside from the distant wind and rushing water, it was utterly silent. Considering his altitude there should have been wind, but instead, silence.

Through this unusual silence, he heard a shifting of the debris to his right. His head snapped in that direction, where he saw a tall blonde boy wearing a severe expression approaching him. He walked with a level of confidence that was at odds with the delicate balance of the surroundings. Unlike Taichi, he seemed entirely sure of his footing, as if he was completely oblivious to the sharp drop off. Instead his focus was entirely on Taichi as he drew closer.

"Yamato." Taichi spoke.

He found his voice to be entirely too loud. It seemed to get louder as it echoed off of some invisible walls, causing him to flinch. His friends face didn't change in the slightest at his greeting, he continued to approach with the same fixation as before. When he was less than a metre or so from Taichi he stopped abruptly, taking a few long, relaxed breaths before he responded.

"You can't blame yourself, Taichi. Everyone knows that you couldn't have done anything to stop it." Yamato's voice was neutral.

"What?" Taichi was baffled.

His friend had never been one for long winded explanations or, really, talking much at all, but this was a bit too concise. He quickly ran through his recent memories for the mysterious event to which Yamato was referring, but nothing seemed to fit. He looked to his friend's face for answers and found that it had not changed from the harsh, concentrated, expression that he had been wearing since Taichi had first looked in his direction. Taichi analyzed the familiar blue eyes for any infinitesimal indication of the meaning behind the statement, but found them to be chillingly vacant. Discomfort settled over him as he looked over the blonde boy, whose appearance was altogether too composed. He wore a simple grey long-sleeved t-shirt and black jeans, without a wrinkle or a hair out of place. Something wasn't right here.

Taichi opened his mouth to ask any of the thousand questions that had now arisen in his mind, but he stopped short, his words caught in his throat, as Yamato took a step towards the boulder's sharp edge. Taichi's heartbeat pounded in his throat as he watched his friend. He was frozen in place, somehow sensing the approach of danger, but unable to move his limbs. Yamato turned back to face him, his expression finally losing its severity. The countenance he wore now was one of pity. He looked Taichi up and down before he spoke again.

"Don't let him use this against you."

Taichi barely heard this message, staring in horror as his friend confidently stepped forward over the edge of the rock. His muscles finally unfroze. He leapt forward, reaching out desperately to grab his friend's arm and missing by a hair. His foot hovered over the empty space beneath him and, unable to stop his forward momentum, he brought it down onto the nothingness, bracing himself for the fall.

Taichi's body jolted as his foot broke through a layer of liquid to land on the solid surface below. Instead of the fall he had been anticipating, he found himself standing securely on an expanse of pebbles. Relief overwhelmed him, overpowering any confusion he might have felt as a result of what had just happened. The breath he had been holding escaped in heavy pants, and he could hear the loud thrumming of his heart bead in his ears. He leaned forward, resting his hands on his knees and letting his head fall forward, his eyes shutting tightly.

As the panic subsided he straightened himself, opening his eyes to take in his surroundings. He faced a large body of water. He could see the opposite shore where a pair of glacial peaks loomed, but in either direction, the water seemed to extend infinitely. Gentle waves lapped at his ankles, but if the water was cold he couldn't feel it. In fact, had it not been for the vague sensation of liquid against his skin, he wouldn't have realized his feet were in the water at all.

Taichi curled his toes gently, disrupting the pebbles that made up the floor of the lake and starting the school of minnows that had come to inquisitively nibble at his bare feet while he had been collecting himself. He turned around to face the spot where there had previously been rocky cliffs reaching towards the sky, but now he saw the edge of a dense forest. He walked forward so he was no longer standing in the shallows.

Yamato was nowhere to be found. This beach had a similar eeriness as that of the mountain, and it had the same unusual silence. He looked around once again, hoping he would see his best friend's blonde hair somewhere on the abandoned beach. To his left, quite a distance away, he spotted something floating in the water near the shore and horror settled over him once more. The form was unmistakably that of a human, lying face down with arms and legs splayed out, being pushed and pulled with the delicate waves. Please let that not be him. He thought, only caring about the well-being of his friend.

He started to run towards the figure in the water, pleading out loud that it was not Yamato's, he didn't make it far though, before he felt a hand grip his wrist forcefully. He hadn't heard anyone approach. He stopped running and turned in one motion, almost falling from the sudden change in acceleration.

He found himself face to face with Mimi. Her amber eyes stared into his own with an intensity that was rarely seen in the bubbly pink haired girl, and she continued to grip his arm painfully hard, preventing him from putting any space between the two of them. She too was immaculately dressed and styled, her hair was sculpted into two loose braids on either side of her head and her makeup done to understated perfection. He tried to loosen her grip with his other hand but soon found it restrained by a larger hand.

He twisted as much as possible to see the person who now held his other wrist. At first he was relieved as he saw familiar blonde hair, but he quickly realized that it belonged, not to Yamato, but to his brother. Takeru's expression pleaded with Taichi for something, but his body language suggested that whatever it was his eyes were asking for, he wouldn't take no for an answer. It was Mimi who spoke.

"Please, you don't want to go there." Her eyes begged him not to continue his pursuit, not that he could now that they had trapped him.

"I have to. I have to make sure he's…" Taichi didn't know exactly what he planned to do, but he needed to do something. He continued to try to escape his captors, becoming increasingly desperate.

"You're too late." Takeru's eyes continued to plead. But his grip, as well as Mimi's, was loosening.

Taichi took advantage of their slackening hands to tear both of his arms free, sprinting along his previous path. Panic now overwhelmed him, forcing his legs to push him towards his goal. As the distance between him and the body narrowed he was able to see it some detail. He was relieved, initially. The body appeared to be a boy with dark hair, perhaps a bit shorter than he, so it couldn't been Yamato. But who was it, then? He realized as he closed the final distance that he had no idea what he was doing. He had been too busy hoping that it wasn't his friend that he hadn't considered that the alternative was that it was someone else. Now, only metres away from the mahogany-haired boy in the water, he found himself frozen in terror and self-disgust.

He forced his left leg to take a step forward, his body fighting back with every muscle movement. Then his right leg. His whole body shook, both from the effort and from fear. He waded into the shallows with the same slow, forced movements then stopped over the body that he now recognized. Tears welled in his eyes as he reached with trembling fingertips to touch the arm of the younger boy.

A hand caught his before it made contact with the body. Not forcefully, like before, but softly. Slender fingers wrapped around his own, gently and supportively. Taichi blinked the tears out of his eyes before he looked down at his sister.

Her warm eyes did their best to comfort him. She had her short, chestnut hair tucked behind her ears, and she wore a soft pink t-shirt and high-waisted shorts. The water reached just below the hem of her shorts, rising and falling gently with the waves.

"Daisuke is…" Taichi barely managed to choke out the words, but he couldn't continue. He still trembled, tears spilling from his eyes as they returned to the boy's body.

"He's gone." Hikari said, her tone surprisingly detached. "The rest of them will be gone soon too."

She gestured towards the tree line where the other nine members of their team stood facing some invisible enemy. Yamato was there, fists clenched at his sides, his once-immaculate outfit dishevelled, and his body slumped from exhaustion but fighting hard to appear strong to the invisible force that was facing them down. Mimi and Takeru looked similarly beat down, in stark contrast to their appearance only a few moments ago, as did the rest of the team.

Taichi took a moment to internalize Hikari's words, but once they did sink in, his heart wrenched yet again. He felt sick to his stomach. He wanted desperately to run to their aid, but as he tried to move in their direction his shaking knees gave out and he crumpled to the water.

"I have to help them. Why can't I move?" It was barely a whisper, his voice failing him as well.

"Because you aren't strong enough." Hikari said simply.

Her words tore through him. If he could only help, they might stand a chance. He wished he could at least turn his head away from the scene, instead all he could do was watch in dread as the unseen opponent drained the colour from each of his friends. He screamed, but the noise seemed to evaporate in the air before anyone else heard it. Taichi fought back his nausea, nearly forgetting the presence of his sister next to him until she suddenly gripped his hand tighter.

His attention shifted abruptly to Hikari. She now had a pained expression on her face, as she looked down at her own body. He followed her gaze and saw fat fingers of water coiling up her legs, over her hips and waist, leaving wet, almost saccharine trails behind them. They darkened the fabric of her clothes, more and more trails working their way up towards her head, where they dampened her hair. She spoke around the rivulets that dripped into her mouth.

"You couldn't save any of us." Tears mixed with the water as the lake surrounded her, trying to swallow her whole.

"No…" Taichi whispered, clutching desperately at his sister's hand as the water forced itself between them, creating a layer of liquid that kept him from her. She was struggling hopelessly to free herself from an enemy that completely enveloped her. She looked at him with her eyes full of fear and despair then suddenly she was jerked down towards the water. Hikari opened her mouth to let out a scream but the water that crept into her lungs silenced her as she was pulled under water.

"No!" Taichi screamed.

He wrenched upright. His heart felt on the verge of collapse and his breath came in desperate, shaky gulps. He sat doubled over clutching his chest and stomach. He slowly became aware of the shift in his surroundings. It was dark but he saw the walls and ceiling that surrounded him, and felt the soft fabric of his sheets against his palms as he leaned his hands on his bed. Someone beside him spoke softly, but urgently.

"Onii-san, are you alright?"

He whipped his head to look at her, so relieved to finally realize that he had been dreaming. The sudden movement made his head spin and his stomach turn over. Eyes suddenly unfocused, he felt around awkwardly, jerkily, for the trash can beside his bed. His hand landed on it and he wrenched it towards his face just in time for his stomach to empty itself. Heaving and sweating, he curled over the garbage can.

As his stomach calmed and his breathing returned to a more normal level, he became aware of the small, cool hand that rubbed gentle circles between his shoulder blades. The coolness of her hand was soothing against his overheated skin.

Finally, the dizziness and nausea subsided and Taichi was able to lift his head to look at his sister. She sat on the edge of his bed in her pyjamas, her hand still resting on his back. She was obviously concerned, but Taichi didn't care. All he cared was that she was alive. He was overjoyed to see her there. Not really thinking about how he must seem to her, he wrapped his arms around her squeezing her tightly for a long time before releasing her. She was visibly startled, her arms hovering, unsure of what exactly to do, and her eyes wide.

"I'm good, Hikari. Just a nightmare." He forced his voice to sound cheerful despite everything.

Although he was far from putting the dream behind him—the sense of dread had still not entirely left his mind—he thought it was unnecessary to worry his sister any more than he certainly already had. The dream had taken on that quality that caused even the most frightening of nightmares to seem distant and harmless. Well, not entirely harmless, but still.

Taichi looked at the clock on the desk across from his bed.

"You should get back to bed, Hikari, I didn't mean to wake you."

Hikari looked understandably dubious at this statement, after all, he had been vomiting into a trash can not 5 minutes ago. Despite her trepidation, she seemed to accept that her brother was now well enough to be left alone, and her sleepiness led her back to bed.

After she left, Taichi laid back on his bed- his sheets wrapped around his ankles- and stared at the ceiling. Sleep was no friend at the moment, so all he could do was lie with his eyes open until the first intimation of daylight peered hesitantly from between his curtains.

* * *

Hikari sat at the welcome desk of the science centre spinning absentmindedly in circles on the desk chair she was confined to for the afternoon. The ceiling, high above her head, sparkled with artificial starlight, and the atrium, which would be filled with overly enthusiastic tourists on the weekend, was empty on this Monday afternoon but for a few parents dragging their uncooperative children out of the gift shop. Hikari smiled pleasantly at them, wishing them a nice day as they left, before returning to her very important work of waiting for the phone to ring, or for someone to come into the centre, and trying to push the morning's interaction with her brother from her mind.

This was her least favourite position to work, particularly at the times when no one seemed interested in the science centre, like now. She had been delighted when she had landed the summer job as a science demonstrator at the popular tourist destination. It meant she got to work with children, teaching interesting factoids about the flying squirrel, DNA, gravity, or any number of other subjects. That part of her job, she loved. She did not, however, like being cross trained to work the front desk where she had to deal with disgruntled parents for four hours.

She should probably consider herself lucky that she had a job that payed her to sit around doing nothing, but she would much rather be doing what they had hired her for in the first place. Still, she wouldn't complain.

Hikari perked up when she heard the swish of the revolving doors indicating that someone had arrived. She plastered on her brightest smile and braced herself for an interaction with someone who would no doubt get a generous amount of complaining in as they bought their tickets. Instead she was delighted to see familiar faces approaching her.

Takeru's face was warm and friendly as always and seeing him never failed to lift her spirits, not to mention make her heart skip a beat or two. Miyako was a few paces behind him, also smiling as she approached her best friend at the desk.

"Hikari, hey!" Takeru greeted her.

He stopped in front of the help desk, and grinned at her enthusiastically. Miyako walked straight up to the desk, leaning her elbows on the surface and letting her head rest lazily in her palms. She threw a smug smile in Takeru's direction.

"See, I told you she'd be here. They always put her on parent duty on Mondays, because that's the only day most of the volunteer demonstrators can work because of summer school schedules, meaning they have too many demonstrators and not enough demonstrations so they have to send this one up front to babysit the parents because she can do demonstrations every other day of the week and the others can't." She stopped to catch her breath. "By the way, hey Hikari."

"Hi." The brunette couldn't help but laugh a bit at her purple-haired friend's long winded explanation. It was spot on, of course, but convoluted. She nodded at Takeru as well, her day instantly improving at the arrival of her friends.

"So what are you guys doing here?"

Miyako, who had just finished her first year of a bachelor of mechanical engineering at the Tokyo Institute of Technology, was taking summer courses to put herself ahead of her classmates in the battle for internship positions that would ensue in the coming years. She had an apartment near the school's campus but during the summer her time was divided between that and her parent's apartment where she stayed when she worked at the family convenience store.

Takeru was working as a grocery store clerk to earn some of the money he would need to attend school next year with Hikari at the University of Tokyo. Despite the fact that his job was probably exponentially less pleasant than hers, Takeru hardly ever complained, he had said it was well worth the occasional grumpy customer or unfortunate mess to be able to study alongside his best friend. That had made her blush.

"We both had the afternoon off so we thought we would come kidnap our favourite Yagami." Takeru said.

"Oh, well, Taichi was at home sleeping last I saw, so I guess you can look for him there." Hikari replied mockingly.

"Ha ha, very funny." Takeru jokingly rolled his eyes before throwing her a crooked smile. "When does your shift end?"

Hikari looked at the small digital clock that sat on the desk in front of her, next to the disproportionately large printer, the sole use of which was to print out tickets. She was pleasantly surprised to see that her time immured in the help centre would soon come to an end.

"Twenty minutes." Her attention briefly returned to the doors when she heard then let another person into the building. "In fact, there's my replacement now."

She gave a friendly wave to the short, dark haired boy who had just entered. He sneered at her, apparently determined to put as much sass into the interaction as possible.

"Aren't you supposed to be working Yagami? Or is it 'bring-your-friends-to-work-and-ignore-your-valued-customers' day today?" He pushed his wire-framed glasses up his nose and crossed his arms. He smirked, obviously pleased with himself.

"Good afternoon to you too, Satoru. I can assure you that if there were any customers within a hundred metres of this place I would be giving them my full, undivided attention."

Despite her irritation, Hikari forced her voice to be pleasant and smiled as innocently as possible. She refused to give him any reason to report her to their superiors, but she also didn't want him to get away with being rude to her without throwing some sass back at him. His smirk faded and he uncrossed his arms, grumbling under his breath as the joined her on that side of the counter.

"Whatever. You can leave now, I'll punch you out at 4:00."

Hikari didn't really trust him to do as he said he would, but she also didn't want to spend the remaining time in her shift listening to him comment on her, rudely, so she decided to take him up on the offer.

"Well I guess I'm a free bird. Give me a few minutes to change?"

"Sounds great." Miyako said.

Hikari stood up from her wheeled prison and exited the kiosk through the door in its back wall that led to the staff room. A few minutes later she emerged. Instead of the ugly—though admittedly comfortable—forest green polo emblazoned with the logo of the science centre, that she was required to wear, she now wore a boxy pink top whose bottom hem and sleeves were decorated with neat scallops, and a pair of light denim skinny jeans.

"What did you guys have in mind?" She asked her friends who both leaned casually against the wall across from the help desk.

"Ice cream, maybe?" Takeru said, smiling as he knew exactly what kind of reaction that would garner from the brunette. She smiled back at him brightly.

"The three words every girl wants to hear." Hikari replied, placing both hands over her heart and batting her eyelashes at him.

"Speak for yourself, Hikari." Miyako said, rolling her eyes, but she was smiling as well.

"Ice cream sounds perfect. Let's go." Hikari couldn't keep the smile off her face as they left the building together.

* * *

Miyako sat next to Hikari on the bench of a picnic table on the boardwalk, and Takeru sat across from them. Each of them struggled to contain their respective cones of ice cream as the heat of the sun liquefied the sweet frozen treat. Miyako pounced on a droplet of melted sherbet as it attempted to creep towards her fingers. Just when she thought she had dealt with all the renegade droplets, another would sneak up on her. It wasn't until she had almost entirely depleted the upper portion of her cone that struck up a conversation with her friends.

"So, is anyone down for a chosen children slumber party tonight? I'll host." Miyako had only come up with the idea a few minutes ago while wrestling with her ice cream, but it seemed increasingly appealing as the minutes passed.

"I'm in as long as I can leave early for work tomorrow." Takeru responded. He had also neutralized the threat of his vanilla ice cream.

"I make no promises as to your condition in the morning, but that sounds reasonable. Hikari, how about you?"

If the girl next to her had a passion for anything, it was for ice cream. Okay, it was also for teaching, and—though she wouldn't admit it to anyone—for Takeru, but ice cream was comfortably in Hikari's top five favourite things and it didn't look like it was going anywhere. That was why Miyako became very concerned when she saw that her ice cream-loving friend had barely touched her cone. The strawberry ice cream had melted into several small but expanding pink lakes on the wooden surface of the table.

Hikari had a mechanical smile on her mouth as she stared vacantly at the cone, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"Hikari?" Miyako repeated. When the other girl's head snapped towards her, she continued. "Slumber party? Tonight?"

Hikari finally seemed to notice that her hand was covered in melted ice cream. She tried to contain the mess before licking the sweet pink liquid off the back of her hand. The cone finally dealt with adequately, she responded to Miyako.

"Actually, I think I should get home. I'm worried about onii-chan." She returned her attention to the cone, obviously avoiding eye contact with both of them.

"Is everything alright? What's up with Taichi?" Miyako knew better than to let loose the full intensity of her curiosity in her friend, but something was clearly up.

"He might be sick, or…" She trailed off, still looking anywhere but at Miyako or Takeru. "I don't know. But he had a rough morning and I want to check on him. So rain check on the slumber party?"

Hikari smiled in a way that almost seemed genuine. Perhaps there was truth behind it, but Miyako saw worry dancing in and out of the warm burgundy eyes as well. Miyako made eye contact with Takeru across the table and they silently shared their concern for the young brunette. She watched him reach out to gently to shroud Hikari's hand with his own, holding it tightly. She looked at his hand on hers, then up at him.

"If there's anything we can do, just say the word."

Hikari's smile was more sincere than before. "I know. Thank you." She smiled at Miyako as well, understanding that the message had been from the two of them.

Their moment was interrupted by the chiming of Miyako's phone as she received a phone call. She fumbled around in her bag, sifting through layers of unnecessary stuff until she successfully located and retrieved her phone. She glanced at the caller ID.

"It's Ken. Perfect timing, I can pass on the invitation for the slumber party." She pressed the green phone button and raised the phone to her ear.

"Ken. Hey, how's it going? You're home for the summer, right? I was thinking of having a gathering tonight at my place, you know, pyjamas, movies, nail-painting, all that stuff and I was wondering if—"

"Miyako. Something happened." There was a panic in his voice that chilled her to the bone. Her mind ran over the possible things that could make their usually cool and collected friend reach that level of distress. None of the options seemed good.

"Daisuke. He won't wake up."

 **Note: So I lived in the Yukon for a bit and much of the scenery of the nightmare was inspired by my adventures there (not that it's nearly that creepy, it's actually beautiful). I like the idea of Hikari being a bit sassy under her sweet and fundamentally good-natured exterior. I also couldn't help but include a bit of Takari, though this fic won't focus on them exclusively, but rather the group as a whole.**

 **I know it's a bit of a cliffhanger so I'll do my best to get the next chapter out soon. I do hope you liked it. If you did, let me know, and if you didn't, let me know that too. Thanks so much for reading.**

 **Best wishes.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Note: I apologize for my lack of knowledge of the timeline of the Japanese education system. I know they start in April and have three breaks, but for the sake of simplicity and my own laziness, I'm just going to shift the story to the timeline of Canadian schools where we start in September and (at least in University) have break from the end of April to the beginning of the next year. In this story we're a little ways into the summer, probably mid-June or so.**

 **Also it's been brought to my attention that I didn't specify ages, so for the record, Sora has completed a three year degree, and Ken and Daisuke (as well as Hikari and Takeru) would have just finished highschool.**

Chapter 2

Sora had been standing outside the art gallery before her interview when she had received a phone call from Miyako, informing her that their friend was in the hospital. Now she stood in the lobby of the gallery, shocked at herself for going through with it.

After giving her name to the receptionist, she wandered through the dark purple door to the washroom where she stared blankly in the mirror. Considering the extravagance of the rest of the gallery, the bone-coloured walls and minimalist fixtures of the bathroom were a surprising contrast. She didn't really notice or care though, as she was entirely focused on the traitor who stared back at her from the small, frameless mirror.

She had put on makeup for the occasion. Nothing too elaborate, as, if she had tried anything more, her lack of experience with the stuff would have become unmistakable. She would have looked like a child playing with her mother's makeup, and honestly, that's how she felt anyways. But she was sure that the basal amount of eye liner and the understated lip colour that she had applied looked suitably professional.

She wore a simple, structured top that cut across her chest just below her collarbone and dipped down in the back to reveal a still tasteful amount of her toned back. The pale blue, short-sleeved top was fitted to her waist then flared out over her hips in a peplum style. Her legs were clad in dark skinny jeans and she wore red flats. She looked stylish and professional, hoping to show the gallery owners that she took her work seriously. Why they made her jump through hoops for this when it was her artwork that would be displayed, not her, was beyond her. She could only assume that they wanted to make her squirm, and given the spectacularly bad timing of the interview, they would get their wish.

Sora found herself fighting back tears as she carefully examined herself. She had the crest of love. She was supposed to be a consul of the group, but yet she was here trying to better her career instead of supporting her friends.

The memory of Miyako's frantic voice as she had revealed in disjoint sentence fragments that Daisuke had never awoken from his previous night's slumber, replayed in her mind. She had been stunned. Nausea settled into her stomach and her mind had emptied of any useful thoughts.

 _I'll be there as soon as I can._

That was what she had told Miyako. So why was she here? As she pondered this, her mindset abruptly shifted. Suddenly, the walls of the art gallery felt stifling, as they kept her from the people she wanted so badly to protect. She had to go.

Sora threw open the door of the washroom, ready to flee. Before she could make her escape, a haughty voice stopped her.

"Ms. Takenouchi." The gallery owner sounded like an unimpressed school teacher having to call on a rowdy student for the umpteenth time. "I'm ready to see you now."

Sora slowly turned around to face the stern old woman, whose eyes seemed to challenge her to make a run for it.

"Fantastic." Sora said, forcing pleasantness into her voice and a smile onto her face. There had to be a way to get out of this, right?

The old woman introduced herself, shaking Sora's hand then gesturing to an open glass door that led to a conference room. Modern chairs in bold solid colours surrounded an ornate dark-wood table that belonged in the dining hall of some sixteenth century royalty. Sora went to the side of the table that did not host a neat stack of papers and took a seat in an uncomfortable red chair. She folded her hands in her lap, not wanting to touch the imposing piece of furniture in front of her. Her mind was still trying to find an escape, but she had had enough experience with this process that her body instinctively took on a sophisticated poise.

Her eyes scanned the light walls, following the moulding as it encircled the room. She was vaguely aware of her interviewer taking the seat across from her.

"So," the woman began, causing Sora to turn her attention towards her, "as I'm sure you know, I own this gallery. I inherited it from my father and it's very important to me, so I am very selective about what art I display here. I love your work, so this interview is mostly a formality. To ensure that you are, in fact, the right fit for the gallery." Sora nodded.

"So perhaps you should start by telling me a bit about yourself. It says here you have an architecture degree from the Politecnico di Torino?"

Sora's practice for the interview kicked in despite her impatience to get out of there.

"That's right. I was in Italy training for tennis under Silvia Farina, and I fell in love with the architecture there. So, when it came time to apply for university, that was my first choice of study."

"So how did you end up back here, doing the kind of art you do?" The sternness had faded a bit from her voice, now replaced by what seemed like a genuine interest in Sora's story. Sora's mind, however, was still somewhere entirely different.

"Architecture is a very technical discipline, but I found that I mostly enjoyed the design aspect of it." Her eyes kept drifting towards the door, and she became increasingly desperate to get out. But her mouth was on autopilot, reciting the speech she had prepared. "So after earning my degree I came back here to sort of get in touch with a more traditional side of design. I like to work the precise, structural components of design into my garments as well as the traditional."

"That definitely comes across in your work, Ms. Takenouchi." The old woman was either willfully ignoring Sora's absentness, or she genuinely didn't notice. "So having had a chance to look around at the gallery a bit, you feel that your clothing designs have a place here?"

"Mmhmm." She shouldn't still be here.

Another question teetered on the edge of the old woman's lips, but Sora, her mouth moving of its own volition as it caught up with her brain, cut her off.

"I'm so sorry, but I have to go."

She stood up abruptly, urgency forcing her legs to carry her out the door. She left a stunned curator behind her as she sped out the door of the conference room. She didn't hear whatever the receptionist said to her as she ran through the lobby. She couldn't get away fast enough.

It wasn't until she was on the train on her way to the hospital that she realized that she had probably just thrown away her best chance at getting her artwork into the mainstream. Moreover, she realized that she didn't care. That she had even momentarily placed the importance of herself and her career over her friends appalled her. Now, with her heart racing from the sprint to the train station, she only wanted to be there for them.

* * *

Ken sat on an uncomfortable, stained waiting room chair, with his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting in his hands, as the hours dwindled towards midnight. When he had awoken this morning, it was with the vague sensation that something was wrong. It was the feeling that the day would end in tragedy. But, he had pinned it on the ominous dreams he had had the night before, pushing the feeling to the back of his mind and all but forgetting it entirely. He had gone to soccer practice as usual, and come home mid-day, exhausted.

The apartment he shared with Daisuke usually contained a flurry of activity at this hour, as he would wake at mid-morning and start on whatever scheme he had planned for the day. So, when Ken opened the door of the apartment, letting himself into a quiet, still room, an unpleasant feeling shrouded his soul. The impression from that morning returned to him, paralyzing him in the entrance.

He suddenly found it difficult to lift his feet; to walk across the pale green carpet of the living area towards the closed door of Daisuke's bedroom. Somewhere along the way he dropped his soccer bag. It made a loud thud that seemed to reverberate through the poignant silence that made the air in the apartment heavier. Ken didn't even hear the sound from the clattering equipment. His mind had narrowed to see only the door and the path towards it.

First he moved his right foot. His toes curled slightly around the acrylic threads of the carpet, its plush comfort was unnatural in this moment. Then his left. He swayed ever so slightly, staring at the door knob as he regained his balance. Right foot again. He prayed to himself that he was overreacting, and Daisuke had overslept, but his gut told him that he wasn't. Left, right, left. The final step with his right foot brought him to the door.

Some instinct told him to turn and flee before whatever he found there could hurt him, but, despite this, he reached out a quivering hand to turn the knob. The hinges let out a sinister creak as the heavy wooden door swung aside to reveal a room that was dimly lit by the sunlight that shone between the slats of the blinds.

The room perfectly reflected the personality of its resident. The walls, which they were not allowed to paint by the agreement of their lease, were a dull grey, but it didn't matter as almost every inch of them was covered by some poster, photograph, or brightly coloured sticky notes. Daisuke wrote the notes for himself, to remind him of things he needed to do, or to keep physical copies of the contact information of friends. The lists were posted on his walls and promptly forgotten, leaving a detailed map of all of his thoughts throughout the two months that they had lived here. Against one wall was a desk, the drawers of which were empty, but the surface was cluttered with papers of varying degrees of importance. Across from the desk was the bed, with navy comforter and sheets in disarray.

Tension seized Ken's chest as he saw that the bed was occupied. His eyes landed on his partner's chest and relief flooded over him as he saw the rise and fall of his breathing. The breath he hadn't realized he was holding finally escaped his lungs and his knees nearly gave out from the reprieve. As suddenly as it had left, his ability to move returned to him and he made his way across the carpet to sit on the edge of the bed.

Daisuke was sprawled on his back, sheets covering him from mid-torso down. Ken smiled down at him as he examined his sleeping lover. The somewhat pained expression on Daisuke's face caused Ken's forehead to wrinkle slightly, and he reached out with gentle fingers to smooth the lines on the maroon-haired boy's face. Daisuke's expression didn't change at all under the delicate touch.

"Time to get up, sleeping beauty." Ken said, jokingly. His voice was soft, as always, but loud enough that it should have caused the other boy to stir. Instead he lay with the same twisted expression, perfectly still but for the expansion and contraction of his rib cage.

Ken's mind numbed.

With panicked movements he frantically took hold of Daisuke's shoulders, giving them a shake that was uncharacteristically coarse. Tears stung his eyes as he tried desperately-ineffectually-to wake him.

It was a series of panicked phone calls and a squall of activity in the apartment that had led to his current position of agonized waiting in the ICU. Now, feeling lost and emotionally drained, Ken could only sit silently with the rest of his friends, memorizing every crack in the grey-blue paint that covered the walls and watching the occasional hospital staff scurry across the cold linoleum.

Ken had dealt with loss before. When he was young he had lost his brother, plunging him into a darkness that had threatened the people he now held dear, and the place that was another home to him. Later he had lost Wormmon, albeit temporarily, this time as a direct result of his own mistakes.

This, somehow, was worse.

It was worse because Daisuke wasn't dead. He was alive and breathing just a few steps down the hall. Ken could easily get into the room-despite orders from the hospital staff that he had to wait-and talk to him, hold his hand, lay his head on Daisuke's chest and relax into the gentle movements of his breathing. But despite all this, he was out of reach. He was trapped somewhere inside himself, suffering, and Ken was powerless to protect him.

And, it was worse because, in spite of the fact that he had loved his brother and Wormmon with all his heart, Daisuke now carried a piece of that heart with him, and being apart from him made him feel incomplete and helpless.

The appearance of a figure in front of Ken startled him out of his introspection. Eyes shifting upwards, he vacantly took in the sight of Jyou standing before him, holding a paper coffee cup in a hand which he extended towards the younger boy. After taking a few seconds too long to process this action, Ken reached out a diffident hand and closed it around the warm cup.

He stared hollowly at the cup for several seconds then looked up at Jyou, forcing his mouth into a strained, nugatory smile. It was an obviously lifeless expression of thanks, but Jyou seemed to accept it, regardless, as he sat down in the empty seat next to Ken.

"You know that coffee isn't magical, Ken. You're going to have to go home and sleep at some point."

Ken was shocked at the bluntness of the statement. He stared, mouth agape.

"Don't expect me to be delicate with you if it means you end up harming yourself. There are doctors in there taking care of Daisuke, leaving my priority as taking care of you and everyone else." He motioned to the other occupants of the waiting room.

"We're all in shock. We're all afraid of losing our friend. I know it's not the same for you. Believe me, I know, and I can't imagine how hard this must be, but your body doesn't stop needing food and rest just because something terrible has happened. You need to take care of yourself, and let your friends support you."

His outrage quickly faded into gratitude as it sunk in that, not only was Jyou right, but he was also one of few people not treating him like he would snap at any moment. Ken appreciated the vote of confidence, though he didn't entirely feel he deserved it.

"I know." Ken said, his voice revealing just how painful the day had been.

Jyou acknowledged Ken's statement with a curt nod before turning his gaze towards the wall across from their dilapidated seats. They sat in silence for a long time, Ken returning his attention to the cracks in the paint and Jyou reading and rereading the sign that instructed him to 'Please be courteous! No cell phone use in waiting room'. Each was immersed in their own thoughts. Eventually, Ken spoke.

"Did anyone manage to get a hold of his parents? Or Jun?"

The other members of the Motomiya family had left on vacation to South America at the beginning of May, with Daisuke opting to stay behind to get settled into the apartment he shared with Ken.

Jyou shook his head in response.

"Nothing yet."

They settled back into silence and waited.

* * *

The dull walls and dismal silence were stifling.

After the day's filming had come to a close, far past its scheduled end time, Mimi-who had been thinking of relaxing in a nice bubble bath then snuggling up with her cat-had been greeted by a phone overloaded with voicemail and text messages.

The most recent were along the lines of 'I guess you must be working', 'make sure you get in contact with one of us when you're off work', and 'hopefully you get these messages soon'.

Moving back in time a little while revealed some 'Where are you?!' and 'Why haven't you answered yet?!'.

Then finally, the inaugural voicemail was one from Miyako.

'Mimi I've tried calling you like, a hundred times, where are you? Daisuke is in a coma. He's in the ICU. Ken is there alone and I'm on my way but, please, when you get this try to get there. Just… Please.'

Despite the panic and worry she had been feeling for her friend since she heard Miyako's message, she couldn't stand being here anymore. She wanted to be around her friends, but the air in the hospital was too thick, too heavy, rendering her unable to breathe.

She looked around the waiting room at the others. Her seat was to the far side of the room, closest to the main entrance. A second door was directly across from her. To her left, Sora sat, arms wrapped around herself. She had been there when Mimi had arrived, bustling about trying to make sure everyone was taken care of. When Mimi had spoken to her briefly upon arriving, she had detected guilt behind the red-head's warm eyes.

Sora was, in fact, the only person who had spoken to her since her arrival. Apparently, all she deserved was a half-assed explanation of what had happened and somber glances from a handful of other people. She felt about ready to burst.

A few seats over from Sora, against the adjacent wall, Miyako, Hikari and Takeru sat in a row. Miyako and Hikari held each other's hands tightly, just as they had since before Mimi's ingress. Takeru stared at some invisible point in front of him, his eyes occasionally darting over to look at the others in the room before returning to the imaginary point of focus.

Yamato sat on the floor, leaning partially against his younger brother's legs, and partially against the seat next to him. He had his left leg extended in front of him and his right pulled up to his chest as he hunched over it, apparently fascinated by some loose thread at the cuff of his jeans.

Iori sat in the next available seat, back straight and hands folded in his lap as he fixed his eyes intently on the door, as if expecting Daisuke to wander out at any minute. Occasionally his eyes would lose focus, eyelids drooping infinitesimally to reveal the exhaustion he, along with everyone else, was slowly succumbing to.

In the seats against the wall that Mimi faced, Jyou sat next to Ken. Ken's state made the rest of them look like they had just come back from a day at the beach. His usually coiffed hair was in complete disarray, as was his outfit of track pants and a t-shirt, suggesting he had never changed from his practice earlier in the day. He crumpled defeatedly over his coffee cup, alternating between examining its lid, and staring at the opposite wall.

Next to him Jyou seemed to be deep in thought. He held a coffee cup of his own which he tapped lightly with his index and middle fingers. The sound it produced was almost inaudible, but in the poignant silence of the waiting room, it was almost deafening.

Finally, one seat over, sat Koushiro, next to a dishevelled Taichi. Taichi's state was easily the most surprising of all of the Chosen Children. He leaned forward with one hand clutching a handful of his impressive hairdo. Their normally confident leader looked crestfallen and, somehow, guilty. His eyes hurtled between the others in the room desperately, as if fearful that they would disappear at any moment. Every few minutes or so he would mumble to himself, his words mostly indiscernible to Mimi.

Kousiro, from his seat next to the brunette, was likely able to understand Taichi's mumblings, and threw concerned and bewildered glances his way each time he spoke. He himself looked anxious. Sporadically, his left foot would twitch repeatedly until he caught himself and steadied it.

Mimi was glad she couldn't see herself, imagining that she didn't look much better than the rest of them.

They all sat in silence for several more minutes until they heard the soft thud of feet approaching from the hallway directly next to Mimi. Twenty-two eyes snapped towards the approaching footsteps with laser-like intensity.

The physician who entered wore a lab coat over grey-blue scrubs, and the dreary expression that she bore instantly conveyed the purpose behind her arrival.

She stood at the entrance to the room for a moment, appraising its occupants with a bleak expression.

Across from Mimi, Jyou stood up abruptly, and, after a beat, so did Ken. Jyou made his way over to the doctor, a supportive hand placed on Ken's back to guide him towards the room's threshold.

The physician nodded in acknowledgement and led both down the hallway, out of earshot. Mimi returned her attention to the rest of the group, all of whom seemed to be watching the now empty doorway.

She leaned her head back, staring at the tiny holes in the ceiling tiles above. They waited.

It felt like an eternity before she once again heard someone approach. Ken stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his abdomen and defeat in his eyes. When he spoke his voice was strained.

"Dr. Sato says their tests were inconclusive. So far as they can tell..." His voice quivered as he tried to formulate his next words. "So far as they can tell there's no... Medical cause for Daisuke..." He trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued.

"But he's stable, so they're moving him to long-term care. Jyou is staying here tonight."

The silence that followed felt like it lasted an eternity. The already unmanageable atmosphere worsened. Finally, Mimi couldn't stand it any longer.

"Everyone here needs some sleep. I have my car, who else has a vehicle?"

Everyone stared at her. She ignored them, awaiting an answer. Yamato raised his hand tentatively, as if afraid doing so might bring about some terrible event.

"Great." Mimi barrelled on. "Takeru, you'll stay with your brother tonight. Yamato, you can drop Miyako and Iori off when you stop to let Takeru get his things. Koushiro lives in your direction as well so drive him home too."

"Hikari, Taichi, I'll drive you guys home. Sora as well, and Ken, you're staying with me tonight." She huffed, pleased with herself. "Any questions?"

The pink-haired girl looked out at a roomful of astonished faces. A few of her friends shook their heads, eyes wide, but most just stared at her in shock.

"Great. Let's go then." She couldn't wait to get out of this damned hospital.

* * *

Daisuke sat at the end of a long table, around which his friends sat in plush dining chairs with high backs. The table itself was adorned with a satiny, burgundy-coloured table cloth. The table cloth, however, was barely visible under the enormous platters of elaborately prepared and presented food. Dishes representing all sorts of cuisines cluttered the large table, and the smells that drifted off of them made the younger leader salivate.

He took a moment to look around the table at his friends. They were all there, laughing and smiling, their light conversation filling the room with warmth. The room itself was just large enough to host the dining table. It was painted a soft, butter-yellow colour, and it was lit from above by a minimalist chandelier. There was a door immediately across from him and one to his left, both of which led to unlit hallways that had no discernable ending.

There was food on his plate that seemed half finished, as if he had been eating for a while, though he had no memory of serving himself the food. In fact, he had no clear memory of arriving at the gathering either, let alone its purpose. He wracked his brain.

"Is everything alright, Daisuke? You've stopped eating, and you never stop eating." Miyako's voice rose above the others. She sat to his right, about halfway down the table.

"I don't..." He trailed off.

The brightness of the scene carried with it a sinister undertone, as if someone had used lavish amounts of icing to extravagantly frost a cake that was rotten and putrid. His instincts told him to flee.

"I think I'll just step out for a few seconds."

The conversation around him halted and all eyes turned in his direction. He pushed his chair back gingerly, afraid to move too suddenly. The chair's feet scraped gently across the dark wood of the floor as he slowly lifted from his seat.

"You shouldn't leave." Miyako's voice took on a harsh, cutting tone.

"If you leave, who will protect us?" Taichi said from across the table.

It was an almost comical thing to hear from the older boy. The idea that he, of all people, would ask for Daisuke's protection, was absurd. But in the now-eerie setting, it send terrified chills down Daisuke's spine.

"I'll come back, I promise." He felt now more than ever that he had to get out of this bizarre dinner party.

He slipped out from where he stood between his chair and the dining table and sprinted for the door to his left, hurtling down the dark hallway. He stopped in his tracks when he heard a chorus of ear splitting screams erupt behind him. He covered his ears and forced his legs to push him onwards, but each time he looked back, the soft yellow light of the room was just as close. He collapsed to his knees, the realization dawning on him that there was no escape.

Slowly, he turned and faced the threshold of the hallway, just metres in front of him. The screaming ceased.

He shakily got to his feet and made his way back into the dining room. His body fighting every movement, he returned to his seat at the end of the table.

"Wonderful." Ken spoke from his seat immediately to Daisuke's left, smiling sweetly.

"Now we can begin our celebration."

The chosen children returned to their easy conversation, as if nothing had happened, and Daisuke stared down at his plate, frozen in horror.

 **Note: Not a whole lot happened in this chapter, I know. I hope it was still enough to keep you invested though. Let me know what you think of the chapter, and what you think I did well or could improve. Thanks so much for reading. Best wishes.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: I don't own Digimon or any of these characters.**

 **Though completely unintentional, the theme of this chapter seems to be 'Computers are the universe's most elaborate form of torture and girls are super fantastic. Upon careful consideration, I've decided to make this my personal motto. Enjoy!**

Soft light filtered through the window of the apartment, being muted but not effaced by the wispy curtains that fortified the contemporary citadel. Blotches of brightness found their way to the floor, rippling as placid whiffs of outside air entered to dance with the window dressings.

The scene would have been entirely serene, were it not for the furious smashing of keys by the room's occupant.

Error in == line 145

? undefined function or variable.

The message screamed in angry red from the white background of the command window, accompanied by a curt series of flat beeps. The sound made Koushiro's eye twitch instinctively. He sat, shrouded by the warm walls of his childhood home, in an office chair that was quickly starting to feel like a prison. Taking a deep breath to calm his frustrated nerves, he scrolled up through the lines of code to re-examine line 145.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary in that particular section of the script. It felt like the hundredth time he had returned to it, each time making minor changes to the punctuation in an attempt to force the computer to understand his input, and each time running the script and producing the same error message. Undefined function or variable in line 145. What was wrong with line 145?

He was beginning to lose hope of solving this one. Upon taking one final, desperate pass of the line, he spotted something that his well-tuned mind should have immediately seen. Both embarrassed and excited, he changed the letter 'M' to the lowercase 'm' and saved before running the script once again. He waited in anticipation.

Error in == line 211

? undefined function or variable.

Koushiro supressed a screamed, slamming shut his laptop. He hurled his face towards the desk, slowing just as his forehead was about to make contact with its surface, but still coming down with a loud thump. He took a few irate breaths before leaning back in his chair, browbeaten. He stared at the ceiling and rubbed his forehead gently.

This code, given he could finagle it into acquiescence, might form a building block to open a channel of communication with the digital world. It had been nearly three years since they had been able to see their friends. To talk to them. All interchange between the two worlds had cut off abruptly and now Koushiro felt like he was the only thing preventing the restoration of such communication.

He leaned forward again and stared at the laptop as if it might come alive and start screaming error messages at him, and reached out a tentative hand to push it farther away from himself.

The red-head started when he heard a sharp knock on his door. The chair spun as he turned to face the entry where Taichi wasted no time barging into the room.

"Get up. Put your shoes on. We're going out." He stood with arms crossed and a look of determination set on his face. The gust of air stirred up when the door had been flung open caused the fabric of the curtains to shiver, momentarily allowing unimpeded sunlight into the room in a bright flash.

"I have things to do, Taichi." Koushiro realized he hadn't accessed his voice too long. It had been several days since he had seen, or spoken to, the other boy. Weeks since he had encountered some of his other friends.

"Not anymore, you don't" Taichi approached Koushiro in his seat with purposeful movements. "You're coming with me, and we're getting you out of this apartment. Where there are other humans."

"I don't like other humans-Taichi stop!" Koushiro found himself wrenched from his chair by a resolute Taichi.

"No." Taichi said, bluntly. He dragged the unimpressed redhead behind him as he marched towards the door, Koushiro fighting the grip on his arm. "Now get your stuff together."

"Fine!" Frustration and grudging defeat predominated his tone. The last thing he wanted to do at the moment was distract himself from his work, despite missing his friends. Every second he spent with his attention elsewhere was a second he wouldn't spend with Tentomon. Every second he was letting down the others, even if they didn't know it.

"Great." Taichi said, relinquishing his grip and once again crossing his arms, this time smug from his victory.

Koushiro shuffled over to retrieve his bag from its home on the blue carpet. He contemplated bringing the riling laptop along- habit nearly winning out- but instead of slipping it into the bag along with his phone and wallet, he tucked it into a desk drawer. He pulled on his shoes before Taichi practically shoved him out of the apartment, into the outside air.

* * *

Clouds started to congest the sunlight, bringing with them the first indication of a summer storm. But the rain would be a welcomed change, breaking the sweltering heat as well as the monotonous congruence of summer days.

The living room of the Yagami apartment dimmed as the sky greyed, but its denizens' focus was elsewhere as Takeru struggled to navigate the course registration website for the University of Tokyo. He was being led through a seemingly endless loop of prompts claiming they would allow him to add or drop courses, but ultimately kept retuning to the overly cheery, yet somehow bland, home screen. In his frustration he nearly pushed his laptop off the armrest of the couch where it rested.

"It's beginning to feel like they don't want me register for courses."

Hikari, who had her own laptop balanced on her midriff as she lay across the couch, tilted her head from where it reclined against his leg to look at her friends screen.

"Well, not having students enrolled would definitely make teaching a whole lot easier for the professors. Could be an ulterior motive."

Takeru threw the brunette an exasperated look as he continued to try, fruitlessly, to utilize the online registration. His approach had now become a desperate mix of clicking and smashing keys. Hikari reached behind her head to halt his flustered movements.

"You have to add the courses to your shopping cart first. Go to 'Enroll', then 'Add courses to shopping cart', then you can search by course code or subject."

He stared at her for a moment with one eyebrow raised in question. She seemed to understand and shrugged.

"They use the same interface at Tokyo Tech and Miyako gave me a crash course."

"You traitor!" Takeru exclaimed in mock betrayal, clutching his chest dramatically. "We were supposed to be in this together."

He reached down to ruffle her hair playfully.

"Stop!" She giggled and tried to swat his hand away, nearly knocking her laptop off its perch in the process.

Her eyes seemed to refine the greying sunshine that permeated the windows, reflecting back pure light as she laughed. Despite the fall of the first drops of liquid outside, her presence brought brightness and warmth to the home. Once they had both settled back into the peace and quiet of the lazy afternoon, Hikari spoke.

"You should just be glad that one of us knows what we're doing. Admit it. You'd be lost without me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dumpling." He smirked at her.

Hikari wrinkled her nose at the cloying pert name, then retaliated.

"Alright, honeybun."

Takeru's smirk was mirrored by Hikari as they both returned to the task at hand.

Painstakingly, he added each of his classes to the shopping cart, occasionally switching windows to verify which would be needed based on a list from his degree plan. Once each course had been carted he chose which lecture sections he wanted for each.

"Will you have 12:30 to 1:30 free on Tuesdays? We could do weekly lunch." He asked as he examined the empty slots in his proposed timetable.

"On Tuesday? No, I have an inorganic chem lab from 11:30 to 2:30." She also examined her schedule. "How about the same time on Friday?"

He looked at the timeslot.

"I have a sociology lecture, but I think I can switch to a different section." He fiddled with the contents of his cart.

"Done. Now, remind me again why you're in a program that requires you to do..." He examined her screen, seeing surprisingly little empty space in the timetable. "Three three-hour labs a week! Are they trying to kill you?"

She laughed lightly causing her shoulders to brush his leg near where her head rested.

"I need an undergraduate degree before I can do teachers college and I like chemistry. Besides, you have four seminars a week, so what's the big difference?"

"My seminars are only an hour and a half, nerdface."

"Only an hour and a half? Weak." Hikari suck her tongue out at the blonde boy.

"Oh shut up."

Once Takeru had enrolled for all his courses in what was probably the most convoluted process imaginable, he shut his laptop contentedly and began to play with Hikari's chestnut hair, fanned out over his thigh.

Hikari didn't react to this other than to lean her head into it slightly as she continued to poke around on her laptop.

"We could join a club." She scrolled through the list of club offerings, Takeru still running his fingers through her soft locks.

"There's a board game club. I know how much you love board games." She said, smirking.

Takeru snorted in response. Whenever their friends played even the most innocent of board games it seemed to turn into a rather violent competition between Taichi, Sora, Yamato, Daisuke, and Miyako, leaving the rest of them staring in amazement as they tried to avoid being steamrolled by the clash. Takeru felt a particular aversion because his brother had a tendency to bring him in as an arbitrator.

"Right, maybe we'll skip that one." He reached over to close the tab that contained the information detailing the club's meetings, but she swatted his hand away.

He tickled her side, getting a giggle out of her, before retuning his hands to her hair, twirling a piece around his index finger.

"What else have you got?" He asked, peaking at the screen as she continued to scroll through the listings.

"Well, let's see..." Her eyes scanned the screen. "Ooh! There's fencing. Fencing could be fun. Stabbing things, dressing in funny white outfits."

She stabbed him in the stomach with her index finger to illustrate her point, making him laugh.

"My grandfather insisted I try fencing when I stayed him in France last summer. It was pretty fun." He recalled the experience. "Plus, I think you'd be good at it. I feel like there's a rage buried deep inside you somewhere."

He was only partly kidding, as it was certain that his best friend kept a lot of things inside, but the brunette seemed to take it as a joke. She laughed.

"I'll bookmark it." Hikari smiled. "And I'm bookmarking the board game club as well."

"Fine. But you can't make me go."

She looked up at him, mischief in her eyes. "Oh yes I can. I can make you do whatever I want."

It was true, there wasn't anything he wouldn't do for the girl in his lap, but he couldn't let her know that. Nor would he let her win that easily.

"Yeah right. Says who?"

"Says me. Consider this payback for stealing my boyfriend." She raised one eyebrow at him, clearly tormenting him.

He rolled his eyes at that. In their first year of high school Hikari had been dating a boy named Haruo, and while Hikari and Takeru had been on the outs over some petty argument, the two had broken up. Within the week, Haruo had begun pursuing Takeru, and he, in all his infinite wisdom, had accepted the other boy's advances. Needless to say, their relationship had been short lived, and he and Hikari had seamlessly repaired their friendship, but Hikari still used it as leverage when she wanted something from him.

"That was ages ago." He returned lightly, both of them laughing softly while trying to feign seriousness. "And it's not my fault I'm irresistible."

She snorted. "Yeah, right. We both know what really happened."

"Oh," He raised an eyebrow, "and what's that, exactly?"

She looked pleased that he took her bait.

"He realized I wasn't into him and he went after you because-let's face it-you're easy." She shrugged her shoulders lightly.

Had it been anyone else saying that, he would have been offended, but coming from her, he somehow didn't mind. As much.

"Hey! I am not easy." He crossed his arms across his chest and looked at the wall of windows, turning his cheek to her.

"You know you are. You'll date any pretty person that steps into your field of vision." She paused for a second.

"I bet even I could seduce you if I tried."

Once the words were out, tension filled the room. Takeru's eyes snapped in her direction, meeting her wide, startled ones. His thoughts slowed, as if impeded by the thick suspense that imbued the air. They stared at each other for several long seconds, never breaking eye contact.

"Well you wouldn't have to try very hard." His mouth divulged the words without permission from his brain. Hikari sat up suddenly, then turned to face him. Takeru internally kicked himself.

"Are you saying you want me... to... seduce you?"

He tried to analyze her expression, for any hint of what she might be thinking in this moment. Remaining impartial proved impossible, so distracted he was by searching for what he hoped to find there.

"Are you saying you want me to want you to seduce me?" Again they just stared at each other for several long minutes, the tension in the air palpable. Each seemed to be trying to gauge the other's response, and each was unsuccessful. Takeru's heart slammed in his chest so loudly he was sure she could hear it.

Finally, the tension broke as Hikari doubled over in laughter. Takeru wanted to join her but, unsure of what this meant, he could only manage a nervous titter.

"Takeru," she finally managed between fits of giggles. "If you're going to ask me out, I know you can do better than that."

His heart lifted, still beating hard and fast in his chest. He had thought about telling her how he felt countless times before, had inestimable numbers of speeches prepared. He stared at her in awe, trying to formulate his next move.

In a fit of sentimentality he grabbed one of her small hands in his own, causing her laughter to trickle off, leaving a tentative smile in its wake.

"Hikari, we've been friends for a decade, and I've wanted to be more than that for almost as long. You are so important to me..." He couldn't believe this moment was real, nor could he believe the sickly sweetness of his own words.

"...And it would mean the world if you would… do me the honour of going out with me."

There it was.

His feelings were out, or at least a fraction of them were out, and all he could do now was stare at her, hope inflating his chest as he watched her expression change gradually as his words sunk in, from shock to glee.

She nodded excitedly.

He grinned at her and she grinned back, and for several minutes they just sat there jubilantly.

Finally, Hikari moved closer to him on the couch, so her legs, folded beneath her, were directly next to his own. Her knees pointed towards the back of the couch, and she had her body twisted slightly in his direction.

She drifted towards him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

"Does right now work for you?" She was smiling impishly.

He smiled back and nodded, then seized her lips with his own while simultaneously trying to supress the typhoon contained in his aorta.

* * *

In the centre of a bustling _kare-ya,_ Koushiro stared sullenly across the table at Taichi, who picked at the vegetables in his curry and willfully discounted the grudging looks being thrown his way. Taichi smiled at the younger boy, mouth still full of sweet potato. He gulped down the food in his mouth.

"This place is good. We should come here more often."

Koushiro continued to glower from his side of the table, his heavy eyebrows arched indignantly. He picked up his spoon and stabbed at his dish of _dorai karē_ , not breaking eye contact with the brunette.

"Anyways," Taichi continued cheerfully "I was talking to Mimi this morning, and she said- remember that gallery that was interested in Sora? Well, not Sora really. Sora's stuff. Oops, that came out wrong-anyways, Mimi says they're doing a special exhibit of her clothes. Not Mimi's clothes-although, that would probably make one hell of an exhibit-but they're doing an exhibit of Sora's clothes. You know, her artsy… whatevers? Point being, we should all make the trip out there to see it."

"Sure." Koushiro deadpanned. Why Taichi had chosen today to tow him from the sanctuary of his home was beyond him, but he wasn't going to let him do it without retribution.

"Cool. It's a few weeks from now, I think. End of June." Taichi took another large mouthful of curry, chewing and swallowing before he continued.

"When does your new semester start?" The perkiness was getting on Koushiro's nerves even more now.

"September." More glaring.

"Right. So you'll go back to San Francisco when? End of August? What's it like going to school in America?"

Koushiro finally lost his temper and snapped back at him.

"Don't you see I don't want to talk to you, Taichi!?"

Some judgy looks from the patrons at nearby tables caused Koushiro to press his mouth into a line, looking down at the table as his face reddened. He shoved several large bites of rice into his mouth. Taichi, on the other hand, acted as if nothing had happened.

"That's fine. You can just talk to the others when they get here."

Koushiro's head shot up, eyes widening in surprise. He swallowed his food as quickly as was possible, nearly chocking on the superfluous mouthful, then sputtered.

"Others?"

Taichi smirked, finally having shocked Koushiro out of his bad mood.

"Yeah, I invited Mimi and Ken to eat with us." He feigned an innocent expression, as if he hadn't just deliberately sprung that on the younger boy to get a reaction out of him, but acting had never been the boy's strong suit.

Koushiro threw himself back in his seat, head tilting towards the ceiling. He could now safely say he wasn't going to get back to his coding for a long while.

"Hey!" Taichi called. Once again Koushiro's attention jerked towards him.

Taichi waved towards the door, indicating the arrival of the other two. Mimi appeared to be dragging Ken with her in much the same fashion as Taichi has done with him.

"Hey!"

Mimi's voice was bright, and she was dressed in her usual trendy style, wearing an off-the-shoulder green dress with tawny oxfords. Ken, however, seemed to have exchanged his usually sharp wardrobe for one entirely composed of track pants and t-shirts. Not that anyone could blame him.

Mimi pulled out the seat next to Taichi and shoved Ken into it before circling the table to take the seat next to Koushiro.

"So. How are you doing Koushiro? I heard you've been locked up with your computer for two weeks."

Koushiro threw Taichi a scathing glance before he replied.

"I'm fine, I've just had a lot of work to do on a project."

Mimi flagged down a waiter as she spoke. Her body language while doing so radiated confidence and power.

"Ugh. Don't work so hard, Koushiro. We're on vacation."

She turned her attention to the waiter who had approached them, smiling brightly.

"I'm not eating but I'll have tea. Ken. Order."

Ken's eyes narrowed. Mimi wasn't deliberately treating him like a child, but often it felt like that. He seemed about to protest, but eventually he conceded.

" _Yaki karē_ , please." The waiter nodded and turned towards the kitchen.

"Ken's been staying with me the past few weeks, you know, since..." She either couldn't make herself, or didn't want to, finish her thought. "Anyways, we've been having fun."

"Yeah, sounds like you're having a great time." Taichi said sarcastically, his tone still bright, but teasing. Presumably he had been more in the loop with the two than Koushiro had been.

"She won't let me leave." Ken grumbled at the table. The waiter returned with a miniature pot of tea and a cup for Mimi.

"Oh, come on." She carefully poured some tea into the cup. "You know that deep down you want to hang out with me."

"I wouldn't have to," Ken refused to look at anyone directly, "if I had been able to stop it." His tone was blunt, as if he had thought that same thing many times.

Everyone around the table froze, a chill settling over them. No one had been trying to forget it, not really, but aside from occasional visits to the hospital, thoughts of Daisuke were pushed to the back of most everyone's mind. Out of convenience, perhaps, but more likely out of fear, as they still had no idea what had caused the sudden change to his health. The event carried an ominous air with it, one that now resurfaced at its mention.

It was Taichi who eventually broke the silence.

"There's nothing you could have done. There's nothing anyone could have done."

The statement had the mechanical quality of something that had been repeated many times and not internalized. Though the words themselves should have been at least somewhat reassuring, their delivery put Koushiro on edge, and from the looks of everyone else at the table, it did little to calm their nerves as well.

Minutes passed.

" _Yaki karē_." The waiter placed the dish of baked curry on the table, making a noise that made everyone jump slightly.

The egg that adorned the dish wobbled slightly as Mimi gingerly pushed the bowl in Ken's direction, her hand hovering over the table and eyes cast down at the table.. Ken stared at the steaming food.

"Well!" Mimi's voice was just a bit too high to convince everyone it was casual, the cheeriness not reaching her eyes. "Eat up, everyone!"

* * *

 _He was in a darkened alley_.

An iron fence had long ago severed the humming street from its greying, unused appendage, and the alley had since grown fetid, left to crumble in on itself, away from the care of humans. The only animals that breathed its thick, foul air were insects, taking refuge in its dark corners until they too were seduced into necrosis by the feeling of isolation that the alley was seeped in.

 _He tried to scream, no noise escaping his shriveled mouth, as his twisted figured writhed in anger and desolation._

Other living creatures fed off the desolation. Fungi crept casually from sunless corners, extending blackened digits to cover the stone of the walls and pulling the alley deeper into the darkness. The space was unremittingly damp, purulence leaking from decaying building and forming a vile coat over the remains.

 _How had he come here?_

The buildings that flanked the alley rose high, blocking any trace of light from the living shadows. The only light it ever saw was harsh beams from the flashlights of meddlesome children, scalding its long forgotten walls. The children invariably move on, curiosity quelled by fear, and the alley would continue its pained putrification.

 _He searched his mind, finding traces of familiarity at its frayed edges. It was them. He would find them._

The alley tightened its hold on him, gripping with clawed fingers of darkness.

 _He reached out with his mind._

 **Note: My coding experience basically boils down to half a semester of MatLab, which I acknowledge is not so much a coding language as a it is tool for applied maths, but whatever, that's an error message I saw plenty of, and it still makes me cringe. Speaking of cringing… I hope I was able to express that last part well. Also, I promise I won't put any more obnoxious Takari in here, I just wanted them to be together for the rest of it. Thanks so much for reading and, as always, I'm happy to hear what you guys think.**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 **I don't own Digimon or any of these characters.**

 **Note: I'm so, so, so sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I got a job and suddenly have no free time, and what free time I do have has been spent listening to Two Door Cinema loudly enough to drown out the sound of one of my housemates getting busy, which isn't really conducive to writing... Anyways, I finally managed to write it, and I expect I'll be updating about once a week from now on. Thanks so much for your patience, enjoy!**

Sora opened bleary eyes to a clouded sky, grey but backlit by the clandestine sunshine. Stalks of wheat bowed over her, circumscribing the flat, grey baldachin above. The smell of the wheat inundated her senses, having an almost opioid effect. Her eyes shut and she inhaled deeply, allowing the sweet mustiness to ensnare her olfactory fibres, relaxing her anxious thoughts, and tempering her simmering pulse.

She opened her eyes again.

Sitting up, she took in her surroundings. There wasn't much to take in, really. The plants rose high around her, probably a metre and a half or more, forming an ill-defined barrier which prevented her from learning anything of where exactly she was. The sky respired; brisk, tentative puffs shifting the air. The resulting oscillations of the tall grass which had become Sora's entire world made her head spin, her body swaying slightly with each breath. She started when she heard a voice close beside her.

"This is nice, isn't it?" Mimi's cheerful tone seemed to cast light into their golden stockade, and woke Sora's mind from its state of hazy somnolence. The sudden presence of another human in her bubble of solitude startled her.

"Umm… Yes." Her response was hoarse, as if she had been crying. In fact, her fingertips groping gently under her lower lashes detected moisture and her face felt slightly swollen. Had she been crying?

Movement caught her eye at the edge of the cauline fortress. She turned her head in that direction, where a moth emerged from between the stalks.

Its movements were spastic; wings beating against the dry air violently, sending the creature up and down in sudden cacophonies of transit. Wings the colour of cream with delicate brown decorations flanked a large body. Sora's head cocked in curiosity as it passed her, freezing midair and dropping before once again picking itself back up.

She watched as the moth seemed to shrink before her, its sturdy wings weakening, its movements becoming more sporadic. She watched as its greying body shriveled, legs curling up beneath it as its wings, thin as tissue, began to fall apart into irregular, geometric confetti. In consternation, she watched as the insect crumbled to dust, all traces disappearing as the sky once again breathed an embittered exhale.

Her breathing quickened. She looked around desperately for some indication of what had just happened before her eyes. Her gaze landed upon her pink-haired friend, still lying lazily on her back, arms forming a pillow under her head and hair fanned out around her softly smiling face. With eyes closed, she appeared to be humming to herself, though the tune was indiscernible despite the near silence. She was remarkably unaffected by the odd occurrence.

"Sometimes they turn to dust, Sora. You'll have to accept that."

Mimi's vague statement did nothing to calm her nerves, in fact, something in her tone sent a chill down Sora's spine. An impassiveness that was out of place on the bubbly girl.

"Oh there's no reason to cry, Sora."

Sora put two hesitant fingertips to her cheek and found it damp. That was odd. She wasn't usually one to cry, and she didn't remember the aching pressure of tears behind her eyes.

"The others may be gone, but I'm still here." Mimi's expression fell. Lines of worry formed between her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth turned down. She removed her hands from behind her head and laid then at her sides. "Don't you still want me here, Sora?"

Sora didn't know what to say to the other girl, but even if she had, the words would never have made it past her tightening throat. Confusion and uneasiness trickled through her consciousness, growing stronger and steadier as time passed.

"Don't you still love me, Sora?" Mimi's expression twisted into an unnatural grimace. Shadows formed around her eyes. Her head jerked back suddenly, as if being yanked towards the ground by her hair. She looked at Sora with a look of angered betrayal, and Sora looked back with shock and fear as things began to change around them.

The trampled wheat that formed the floor of their enclosure seemed to decay before her eyes, fertilizing the rapid growth of new plants. Tiny green sprouts emerged from the ground in astounding numbers, thousands of miniscule needles arising, quickly shooting upwards towards the darkening sky.

A strangled cry drew her attention back towards Mimi, and Sora watched in panic as the green seedlings ruptured forth from the backs of Mimi's outstretched hands. Small, ruby beads appeared at the sites of exit, enlarging and – when they finally grew too swollen to hold their form – rolling down the slopes of her delicate hands, leaving crimson trails behind them. Mimi's face twisted in pain as the new plants grew though her body.

"Aren't you going to help me?"

The question was a strangled scream, barely recognizable as Mimi's voice. Nevertheless, it brought a surge of guilt to Sora, paralyzing her even further than the gruesome scene already had. _Yes_. She wanted to say. _Yes of course I'll help you._ But her body made no move towards her friend, instead pushing itself back against some invisible wall the prevented her from escaping.

She could only watch the horrific scene unfold before her.

Mimi screamed as the first shoots started to erupt from her midriff and throat, her chest heaving as she desperately tried to maintain her now-impossible breath. The fallow had won. Her wispy sundress stained red, and body studded with seedlings, Mimi choked out a few final gasps as Sora cried out, finally tearing her gaze away from her friend and forcing her body from the ground to turn and run.

It was with unsteady, desperate leaps that she forced her way through the wheat. It rose just above her head, obscuring her view and forcing her to run blindly, desperate for an escape from the image that was now seared into her mind. When the uneven ground took hold of her bare foot, she tumbled towards it, landing hard on her forearms. She took a few gasping breaths, forcing back the nausea that now overwhelmed her. She shut her eyes tightly.

 _What just happened? What did I just_ let _happen?_

Her mind spun, the world spinning far too quickly along with it. She felt dizzy.

Without realizing how she got there, she opened her eyes to find her cheek pressed to the earth. Moisture from beneath her eyelids slid down her cheeks, dampening the living soil.

It felt like an eternity before she was able to move. Shifting her hands under her shoulders and lifting herself on shaking arms. She got to her knees then, after a few more moments, to her feet. She still breathed unevenly.

Something disrupted the wheat behind her, sending gentle waves radiating outwards. She spun around to face it.

At first the space behind her appeared unoccupied, but then—seemingly out of nowhere—a tall figure materialized between the stalks of wheat that surrounded her. It took a moment for familiarity to set in.

"Koushiro!" Without thinking she threw her arms around her friend, relief alleviating the pressure on her chest and allowing her to finally breathe.

He did not return her hug. His arms remained closely at his sides and his body stiffened in her embrace. Abruptly, he seized her forearms, removing them from around his shoulders and gripping them roughly. She struggled against his grip, the reprieve she felt at his presence quickly evaporating, leaving fear as a mottled stain in its place.

"Look what you've done." Koushiro's voice was cold and angry. The expression he bore caused panic to grip her throat, reducing her questioning response to a stymied mewl as she continued to fight his tightening hold on her arms.

"I don't know what—Ow!" His fingertips dug deeper into her flesh. "Koushiro stop!"

"You could have stopped all of this," As he spoke his body changed, "but instead you just sat there."

Sora watched in disgust as the skin of his hands seemed to tighten over his bones, losing colour as it did. His grip loosened slightly, his fingers stiff. His face darkened, eyes retracting in their sockets and skin greying as the flesh beneath it seemed to decay.

"Sora, Sora, Sora. Always putting yourself first."

The statement escaped his shriveling lips as an inhuman hiss, putrid breath washing over her and breaking her disgusted immobility.

She yanked her arms free, and ran.

* * *

Jyou awakened to the persistent humming sounds somewhere to his left. He swung an arm out coarsely, knocking the offending object to the floor where it vibrated against the hardwood. After the final few bouts of vibration stilled, he returned contentedly to his torpid obliviousness.

His doze was cut short once again when the phone erupted into another fit of angry spasms, the sound amplified against the hard floor.

An angry growl escaped his lips as he shimmied to the edge of the bed, reaching out his arm and torso to blindly feel around the floor for the phone. His fingertips found its edges just as he lost his balance. He slid off the bed like the top few sheets of paper sliding off a large stack, leaving his feet still on the bed, but his face pressed dejectedly to the floor. He let out an exasperated sigh, pulled himself the rest of the way to the floor, and—still lying face down—answered the phone that continued to shake paroxysmally.

"Why?" Jyou said resentfully to the caller, whose name he hadn't bothered to check. His clock told him it was 4:10am.

For a moment there was only silence on the other end of the line. Jyou pulled the phone away from his ear and examined the screen. The red phone symbol pulsated in its middle, tempting him to hang up. But the caller ID prompted him to worriedly return the phone to his ear.

"Hello?" He rolled to his back. He was about to hang up when a harsh voice stopped him.

"Jyou. I need you to come over."

"A booty call, Yamato? Really?" His voice oozed sarcasm, but it didn't cover up his obvious concern mixed with irritation.

"This is serious. It isn't the time for jokes."

Jyou sat up, leaning forward slightly as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Although Yamato was known to have a temper, outbursts beyond his typical angst were uncommon. At those times when something he cared for was at risk, the full force of his anger could be felt, with any sideways glance or misconstrued comment being the trigger. It was for this reason that Jyou's voice now settled into a calm-but-exigent seriousness.

"What's wrong?"

"Just… Just get over here."

The harsh beep of the dial tone announced Yamato's departure.

After a moment staring blankly at the phone in his hands Jyou's jumbled thoughts organized themselves enough for him to leap into action. He threw on pants over his boxers and grabbed his car keys before tearing out the door.

* * *

Jyou knocked frantically at the door of Yamato's apartment, simultaneously trying to recapture his lost breath. It was safe to say that his time alone on the way there was sufficient to allow his concerns regarding the purpose of his visit to amplify, an assortment of worst-case scenarios forming and mutating in the silence of his car. By the time he had arrived at the apartment complex, his panic had been nearly overwhelming.

His hand twitched at his side as he waited, the seconds ticking by.

He lifted his arm to knock once more just as the door swung open, revealing a disheveled Yamato standing in the frame.

Ill-fitting clothes hung from a tall form, hunched from the weight of his anger and fear. Those same afflictions were spelled out over his face, his eyes clearly exhausted, but fighting to stay alert and aware. Everything about him, from his clothing to his posture, seemed to convey his conflict of emotions.

There seemed to be a glimmer of hope upon seeing Jyou, however, it quickly fell casualty to the internal struggle. Jyou's worst-case scenarios somehow worsened.

"What's wrong?"

Yamato wordlessly led Jyou into his apartment, careful to close and lock the door behind them before leading him towards the bedroom.

"Something's happening to us. It has to be. It…" Yamato choked on the words slightly, the rest coming out as a strained whisper. "It got her too."

Jyou didn't have time to process Yamato's proclamation. He was shoved through the open door of the bedroom, where the artificially bright room housed a sleeping red-headed girl.

 _It got her too._

No. Not sleeping.

Yamato's words began to make sense. _Something's happening to us._ Sora wasn't the first of their friends Jyou had seen wearing that pained expression, lying in eerie stillness. _It got her too._

Jyou's mouth was suddenly dry.

"What am I doing here, Yamato?" He turned towards the other boy, away from Sora.

"I don't know." Yamato said simply. His voice was as flat as Jyou's had been.

"I'm haven't even started med school yet. I'm not qualified to deal with this." Jyou felt an unexpected anger bubble up inside him.

"I know."

"You should have called some actual doctors. I can't do anything!" His choler surfaced.

"I know!" Yamato's voice raised in response, his anger also close to the surface. "I know that, Jyou. But neither can they. This is happening to _us_!"

"Then call Taichi! He's our leader isn't he? Or Koushiro? He always seems to know what's going on. What am _I_ doing here?!"

"I don't know!" Yamato yelled.

He took a few breaths, fighting back his wave of emotions. "I don't know. I just thought…" His voice had imploded from its previous height, reduced to a fragile tone. Several long seconds passed.

"What happened to her, Jyou?"

Something about his tone reminded Jyou of when they had first visited the digital world. There was something broken in him now, just as there had been at times back then, and it tugged at Jyou's heart, mollifying his vexation.

"I don't know."

For a long while, they stood still, each ensnared in their own private thoughts.

Something was happening, that was for certain, and it appeared to be happening to the Chosen Children specifically. What, though, Jyou had no idea, and they would need everyone's help to find out.

Sora had to be hospitalized. Yamato needed sleep. Then, Jyou thought, then they would call a meeting.

* * *

It was still early in the day when their friends began to trickle into Yamato's apartment.

Jyou had driven Sora and him to the hospital, insisting that Yamato was not in a state to be driving. There was a long time spent talking to the physicians, and waiting for the results they both knew would be inconclusive, after which they had returned to Yamato's home and called this meeting.

Yamato had called Taichi first, knowing Taichi was more capable than he of passing the message on to the remainder of the group. It was only a short time before the information had dissipated, one by one meeting the ears of the other Chosen Children.

Koushiro was the first to land a tentative knock on the door, entering silently, he sat on the couch. He was followed closely by Taichi who brought Hikari and Takeru along with him. Taichi leaned against the wall next to Yamato, eyes narrowing slightly as he appraised his best friend.

Yamato wondered half-heartedly about his brother's inclusion, but the scathing glances Taichi occasionally threw in his direction made it easy enough to tell what he had been doing at the Yagami apartment that morning.

Ken and Mimi arrived a short while later, again entering solemnly and finding seats in the living area. Yamato suddenly had a newfound empathy for the semi-deranged grimace that Ken wore. That expression had been on his own face since 4:00am—since the realization had dawned on him that Sora would not be waking- now painted over by a false aloofness for the sake of the others. For the sake of his brother. Despite these being the people he trusted most in the world, he had no desire to let them see how affected he was by this, instead choosing to bury the slew of fear and pain beneath his carefully constructed frontage.

They all waited.

A while later the door burst open a final time to reveal a flustered looking Miyako. Her eyes seemed to dart around the room, counting its occupants and then narrowing, obviously displeased with the result.

"Was anyone able to get in contact with Iori?" She asked.

She was answered by silence as everyone looked around the room, as if they had all just been woken from a sort of trance. Each person made eye contact with the rest, all slowly shaking their heads. Yamato looked around the room, for the first time realizing how destitute it seemed, despite only expecting one more person.

"No one? He must be out or something." Miyako's voice seemed to go up through the octaves as she continued. "I called him and stopped by the apartment and didn't get a response. He must be out, right?" There was a pleading note to her voice: a sharpness as she finished the final word.

"I'll try calling him." Jyou's words were meant to be calming, and prompted a visible dampening of Miyako's panic, but the obvious discomfort that he shared with the rest of the group still peeked out from behind the façade of imperturbation, putting a slight spasmodic edge into his movements as he scrolled through his phone then put it to his ear.

A silence filled the room as they waited. The faintest sound of long beeps with abrupt endings could be heard from the speakers, indicating the passage of time: one ring, then another, and then another. They probably had no reason to be worried, it was entirely likely that Iori was simply otherwise occupied. Still there was something undeniably ominous to the silence left in the wake of the final ring.

Jyou turned off the phone and dropped it into his backpack, pulling his hand away quickly as if it had burned him.

Taichi cleared his throat.

"Well, I guess we'll get started, and call him back later?"

He met no opposition from the portentous crowd, so he continued.

"So everyone knows why we're here. I guess we need to try to figure out what's going on… So if anyone has a starting point?"

There was something off about Taichi. He lacked some of his usual confidence. Yamato's eye's narrowed, detecting a hint of something in the other boy's expression that was out of place. Guilt.

"Something's attacking us." Yamato said bluntly.

Taichi looked at him, eye's wide in surprise.

"Well, yeah. It seems that way." Brown eyes followed him as he pushed himself away from the wall, turning to face him more fully.

"You know something, don't you?" He didn't even try to hide his anger, as his hand—which had unconsciously formed a fist—slowly but firmly pressed into Taichi's ribcage, holding him against the wall behind him. Taichi just looked at him, mouth agape.

"You've been hiding something since it happened to Daisuke." His voice got steadily louder. "What do you know, Taichi?!"

"I don't know anything!" He yelled back, yanking Yamato's hand away from his chest and holding tightly to his wrist. "If I knew anything that could have prevented this from happening to Daisuke or Sora, why in hell wouldn't I have done it?"

"Well then, what?! What's wrong with you?!" Yamato was aware of his fists still balled tightly.

He also was becoming aware of a small hand on his arm that surely didn't belong to Taichi.

He was momentarily startled out of his anger, following the foreign arm with his gaze to the face of Hikari Yagami, who also appeared to be coaxing her brother's hand to release its grip on Yamato's wrist. Her expression was fierce. Enough so that Yamato's hands relaxed at his sides, as did Taichi's. Yamato's eyes dropped to the floor and he backed away, remembering they had an audience.

He returned to the wall, leaning against it and crossing his arms in front of him. Hikari spoke to her brother too quietly for him to hear, and after a short time they all returned to how things had been moments before. Yamato was still certain that his friend was hiding something from him, but thoughts of Sora were enough incentive to drop it for the time being.

"If something is attacking us we should figure out why." He said quietly towards his crossed arms. He eventually turned his gaze upwards, meeting several pairs of relieved eyes.

"It seems safe to say that it's connected to the Digital World in some way, right?" Takeru said.

"Yes, I'd say the statistical likelihood of two people in this group developing the same affliction due to random chance is extremely low." Koushiro piped in, clearly happy to be returning to the task at hand. "It seems probable that our shared history is connected to it in some way."

"But that brings us right to a dead end." Mimi commented. "We have no way of communicating with anyone in the Digital World."

Everyone seemed to settle back into pensive silence, except Koushiro, who wore a distinctly conflicted expression. Yamato watched as he opened his mouth to speak several times, each time closing it as his mind changed yet again. Yamato wasn't the only one who took notice: several curious eyes were turned his way. When Koushiro finally took notice of the spotlight that made him the centre of attention, he sighed.

"That may not be entirely true."

Yamato's eyebrows shot upwards. It had been three years since communication with anyone on the other side was possible. If Koushiro was suggesting that that may change…

"What's that supposed to mean?" Taichi was clearly trying to appear suspicious despite the ecstatic lilt to his voice.

Koushiro looked around at the faces of his friends, his own face mildly pained.

"Well, I've been working on a program that would provide us with a contact to the Digital World. I wanted to wait until it was complete to reveal it to everyone, because I didn't want to instil false hope. I still don't. There still could be interferences that I haven't yet encountered, and even if I were to be successful, the channel of communication is rudimentary at best…"

"How would it work?" Yamato fought hard to squash the hope that filled his lungs.

Koushiro looked to be considering what details to include in his explanation.

"Hopefully it'll allow me- us- to talk to Gennai, in a method similar to how we were able to communicate by email before. Gennai seemed like the most reliable link, considering we have prior experience with using email to send messages to him between worlds, as well as receiving them. Like I said though, communication will be rough."

"How long have you been working on this?" Mimi asked somewhat breathlessly, surprise clear in her voice.

"Half a year, approximately. I still have to diagnose some errors in the code before it'll become functional, though, and-"

"Well, what are you waiting for, then, fire that puppy up and let me at it!" Miyako grabbed the laptop that Koushiro always seemed to have on his person, opening it on her lap.

Koushiro's eyes widened, panicking as his precious laptop was handled by someone other than himself.

"Hey!" He reached for it, Miyako swatting his hands away absently as she waited for the thing to boot up.

When she did hand it to him, his body relaxing in relief as she did, he entered his password and fiddled until he pulled up whatever code was apparently in question at the moment.

The entire room seemed to crowd in slightly, Yamato pushed himself off the wall and made his way behind the couch on which Koushiro sat, repositioning himself to better see what looked to him to be an indecipherable mess on the screen.

Miyako took a minute to orient herself within the coding language, and once again claimed the laptop as she pulled it towards herself. Koushiro's reaction this time was significantly less dramatic, but his hands still hovered close to the device, ready to seize it if it was threatened in any way. All eyes were on the pair of them.

Miyako pottered with the screen's content, causing a message in red text to appear, accompanied by an unsatisfied beep. Yamato's hand clenched and unclenched at his sides impatiently as he waited -along with everyone else- for something to happen. Miyako, seeming unfazed by both the error message and the spotlight that shone on her, scrolled upwards through the seemingly infinite lines of meaningless text. She stopped at one point to make a quick change to a line, causing Koushiro to laugh in amazement.

"I can't believe I missed that!"

Miyako didn't remove her attention from the laptop as she responded.

"I got your back, man."

Yamato was becoming increasingly frustrated at his own inability to understand what was happening before him. The relative silence of the two nerds in front of him was becoming irritating as well, as if they had entirely forgotten the others in the room. Miyako typed away, then pressed some button with obvious conviction, the clicking sound seeming to echo in the quiet space. He was about to ask what they were doing, but he was cut off when Ken, who had joined Yamato and several others behind the couch, gasped.

"Amazing!"

At the same time, Koushiro let out an excited noise, grabbing the laptop from Miyako.

"You did it!"

"That'll teach you to keep me out of the loop." Miyako crossed her arms over her chest, her chin raised in smug satisfaction.

"What just happened?" Mimi sounded about as confused as Yamato felt. It was clear that something momentous had just happened, but he still felt several steps behind.

"Miyako just got us a way of liaising with the Digital world." Ken sounded a bit breathless. His eyes had more life in them than Yamato had seen in weeks.

Everyone was frozen in anticipation, staring the flashing vertical line inviting someone to type a message into the simple text box on the screen. Koushiro looked back at the members of the group behind him.

"Well, write something." Taichi said.

Koshiro returned his attention to the computer. His hands hesitated for a moment above the keys, before flying over them.

 _Gennai. This is Koushiro. Please confirm when you've received this message, using our previous code word. Something is happening in the real world that we think may be connected to the Digital World, and require your aid._

 _\- Koushiro_

He hit the enter key, and they waited.

* * *

Iori sat across from an older man with dark hair and a pleasant smile. His familiar face contracted in worry as he opened his mouth to speak.

"You mustn't stay here too long, Iori. Your dreams aren't a safe place at the moment."

Iori's mind spun, his mouth agape as his brain attempted to form coherent thoughts. His thoughts escaped his mouth as a gasp.

"Father?"

At that, Hiroki laughed lightly.

"Well I suppose you would be surprised to see me, but I'm not the only dead thing that's here. And I'm certainly not the most threatening."

"W-what are you talking about?" He stammered, his mind still reeling.

"You kids always seem to run into trouble, just when you think you're in the clear." He shook his head "You'd better watch out this time though. He's not like your other enemies."

"I-I don't-"

"You really should get going." Hiroki stood from his seat across a narrow table from Iori, and skirted the table, approaching his son. "He'll trap you here if you're not careful."

"B-but-"

"Wake up, Iori."

The room blurred around him, his breath getting left behind as he found himself in his own room. It found him again in a series of ragged gasps.

What had just happened?

 **Note:**

 **I apologize for my weak understanding of computer programming, but I tried to keep things vague so they wouldn't be too incorrect. I don't really have an opinion on Sorato, so for the time being I'm going to leave that particular detail ambiguous and you can come to whatever conclusions suit you. Again, I'm so sorry for the wait, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks a bunch :)**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

 **I own none of these lovely characters or Digimon or anything fun, really.**

 **So I guess weekly updates are a bit too ambitious. Sorry about that. I'll aim for bi-weekly updates from now on. As much as I want to move the plot forward, I really like writing the more casual interactions between the characters and their moments of just being themselves, so if you're going to keep reading (and I really hope you do!) you'll have to humour me on those. That being said I have a plot that I'm really proud of and I'm excited to share with you, so hopefully I'll be able to get that out.**

 **Without further ado, enjoy!**

He could feel something at the humming at the edge of the darkness that had swallowed his mind. Something that shouldn't be there. That hadn't been there for a long time.

He had been making such progress, already two of them under, their energy waking his senses, giving him a vestige of awareness. He was no longer aboveground. At some point he had sunk down, into what appeared to be a subway tunnel where trains would speed along their predetermined paths, passing defeasibly through him as he crept along at a snail's pace.

It wasn't as dark here. There were lights that cast verdigris pools of luminance onto the grey floors of the tunnel, and where the tunnels opened into the wide expanses of platforms, fluorescent lights allowed the hurried guest of the underground transport to make their way through their days and lives uninterrupted. Rage drove him to reach for them, gloved hands encircling their wrists and clawing at their shoulders, only to pass through their bodies with little more than a slight shudder from them. He was trapped here, and he was alone.

His mind had long ago been twisted past the point of reason, now there were only emotions—of anger and loneliness—interrupted occasionally by thoughts of _them._ These were the only clear thoughts. The only things his unravelled mind could wrap itself around. They were the reason, were they not? The reason he was in this situation. He had finally gained enough energy to hurt them. They would suffer alongside him, in his world of the unconscious: the world where he had power and control. The world where he was not alone.

But now that sensation that crept in from the reaches of his internal darkness threatened his control. He felt a long absent connectedness retuning; doors beginning to inch open, allowing heathery light into his sanctuary. He couldn't allow them to communicate with the other side. They had not yet suffered enough.

He would not let them through.

* * *

Even the soft whoosh of the heavy doors as they lazily came to a stop behind Miyako was somehow classy.

She comfortably made her way through the lobby of the condo building, letting her feet carry her across the sparkling floors, between artfully placed furniture, all of which oozed affluence. She breathed in. There was something about this place that made her feel expensive, like just by being there she was moving up the social ranks. The place, despite its apparent lucre, was understated. It was a small building, only four stories with a handful of occupants, and it was older, but well maintained and updated in all the right ways. It wasn't extravagant in that overblown way that the upper crust was so often drawn to, it was elegant and oddly cozy. It suited Mimi perfectly.

Miyako had been ecstatic two years ago when Mimi, having completed her yearlong program at the International Culinary Centre in New York, moved back to Japan in favour of following her family to some rural corner of the American mid-west. Having her around felt so natural, even though Miyako hadn't even been friends with her- hadn't even known her—when she had last lived here. Mimi had a way of making you feel like you had always known her, though.

The embellished doors of the building's original lift opened, allowing Miyako into the mirrored interior. She pressed the button for the third floor and waited for the older piece of machinery to carry her upwards. When she arrived on the third floor, greeted by a happy beep from the elevator, she got off, making her way towards the end of the short hallway. It was a door she had seen many times before, guarding the apartment she had visited countless times, but still she had to supress her bubbliness at being there.

She knocked lightly and almost immediately the door swung open and familiar hands yanked her through the apartment's threshold and into a tight embrace.

"Miyako! I'm so glad you're here!" She squeezed tighter, wringing the air out of Miyako's lungs, before releasing her all of a sudden.

"Yeah, no problem." Miyako rolled her shoulders. The lifting that the older girl had been doing with Sora and Taichi (never tell Mimi she couldn't do something) had clearly been paying off, as Miyako felt a distinct ache in her arms where she had been hugged. "What did you want me for?"

In a flurry of activity, Mimi seemed to remember why she had called Miyako not an hour earlier, asking her get there as soon as she could. Mimi shoved her into one of the chairs that crowded the kitchen table, and turned around, grabbing something from the counter and spinning back towards her, shoving the mystery item towards Miyako's face.

"Eat this." Mimi said with determination and focus.

Miyako, after taking a moment to examine the offering, took the small, pastry-like thing in the hands before gingerly taking a bite. With no idea what to expect from it, she bit through the exterior of flaky pastry and revealed the savoury and hintingly sweet filling it contained.

"It's delicious, Mimi. What is it?" Miyako hunched her head down once more to finish off the small pastry.

"Well I started off wanting to do Bouchée à la Reine, but then I thought 'They've probably eaten those hundreds of times and they're so… common'. Plus this is an appetizer, right? They're probably going to be circulated which means that they have to be hand held and Bouchée à la Reine just aren't, so I thought I'd do the classic semi-circular folded pastries and keep the filling, but that just leaves me with what are basically mushroom pastries: boring, right? So I got to thinking, what can I add to make them more exciting? Then I got this idea. Pears! Pear and mushroom don't usually get put together but it seems like a good combo to me. The problem is, I've been working on these for, like, ten hours and I've forgotten what good food tastes like so I called you and now you have to tell me, be one hundred percent honest, okay, do these pastries make you want to have your tongue surgically removed just to erase their taste? Because I honestly can't tell anymore."

"What?" Miyako's mind spun as it tried to wrap itself around what it had just heard. "They're fantastic, Mimi, but what… Wait, ten hours! It's only, like, 9 am. Have you slept at all? And who are 'they'?"

"Of course I haven't slept!" Mimi declared as if Miyako was some kind of idiot for not assuming as much. "And 'they' are a bunch of diplomats. I'm catering at the Irish embassy."

"Wait, really? When?" It was too late before Miyako realized that the other girl had successfully misled her from the sleep deprivation problem.

"July 12th." Miyako mentally pulled up a calendar.

"July 12th is, like, a month from now. Why are you stressing about this already?"

"Because Miyako, these are important people. And this is my first catering job where I'm in charge and if I don't decide now then I'm going to be stressing about it later." There was a crazed look in Mimi's eyes that seemed to grow as time passed: barely noticeable when Miyako had first entered, it was enough now to scare away any intruders who dared set foot within a hundred metres of her.

Miyako's eyes wandered to the kitchen that Mimi had obviously been attempting to hide with her own body. On the stainless steel countertops were several baking sheets with neatly arranged pastries, but beneath it, as if at some sort of archaeological dig, layers of debris clearly marked Mimi's level of panic at each point during the previous night. Whatever was causing this spiral- not that it was hard to guess what that might be- was clearly unrelated to the Irish embassy.

"Mimi, come sit with me in the living room." It wasn't very often that Miyako was the one who had to calm someone else down, but there was a mutualism to their friendship that had given her plenty of practice, as well as the other way around.

Not giving Mimi the option to refuse, she turned towards the cozy living room where she took a seat on the couch. A grumpy ball of grey and black fur occupied the space to her left, so she patted the cushion to her other side.

Mimi, receiving the obvious message, sat down, her shoulders immediately slumping and her entire form suddenly appearing deflated. Miyako lifted the protesting cat, holding it a careful distance from her body at all times, and placed it gingerly in Mimi's lap.

Instinctively, Mimi's hands began to work on the feline's fur, stroking with her whole hand from the top of its head to its bum, then scratching the sides of its face with her fingertips. If anyone attempted that they probably would have lost a few fingers I the process.

Maria had been passed off to Mimi when her previous owners had found her to be a bit too much work. Grouchy and paranoid, Maria would hiss as you entered room, and couldn't stand to occupy the same room as anyone else for more than three minutes or so. Mimi, of course, had dutifully ignored all of this, praising Maria to her friends as the sweetest pet she could have asked for. Eventually the constant, unconditional love that poured out of Mimi mollified the sour cat and now, only towards Mimi, Maria was affectionate and protective. Maria craned her neck affectionately into Mimi's hands. Both of them looking significantly less disastrous.

The smile that had settled pleasantly on Mimi's lips faltered.

"Sorry about all the crazy."

"You don't have to apologize, Mimi." Miyako opened her mouth to continue but the sound of a knock on the door interrupted her.

Miyako raised an eyebrow in Mimi's direction, and she returned a shrug. The older girl got up to answer the door, handing Miyako the cat, who promptly hissed, batting ineffectually at the raised hands of the purple haired girl, then turned and sauntered off towards the bedroom. Miyako listened as the door was opened.

"Hey Mimi! I come bearing instructions from the brilliant mind of Koushiro Izumi."

"Takeru!" There was a pause, probably as Mimi crushed Takeru's ribcage. "Come in. Miyako's here."

It was hard not to be happy in the presence of the younger boy: his smile was pretty much ubiquitous, not to mention infectious. He greeted her with a warm hello, standing across from where she and Mimi were seated. Maria poked her head out from the bedroom long enough to hiss at the new invader.

"Nice to see you too, Maria." Takeru said pleasantly "I can't stay long, I just thought I'd drop off the stuff from Koushiro on my way to visit my brother."

Takeru looked around the room for a moment.

"Where's Ken?"

"I let him go home yesterday after the meeting. He seemed OK, finally." Mimi said. Takeru nodded

"So where's your other half?" Miyako asked him, smirking.

"Interesting question of object permanence, personally I think it's still there, even if you can't see it." Takeru's expression remained unchanged as he spoke, save for the hint of a sarcastic smile that twitched at the corner of his mouth then quickly disappeared as he feigned innocence. "So what are you two up to?"

Miyako rolled her eyes, and Mimi piped up.

"There was a culinary emergency, and you know what she meant."

"Hikari's at work, and I don't even know how you know about that; we've been dating for all of 48 hours."

"Maybe _officially."_ Miyako said, Mimi nodding with a matching smirk to hers.

"Anyways, how are you doing?"

"Weirdly enough I feel better." He said, pursing his lips slightly before he continued. "I mean, everything is objectively terrible, but it feels like, for the first time, we have a lead, you know?"

"Well, our lead might be drying up now; we haven't heard anything from Gennai since his first message." Miyako looked down at the floor.

"But at least we have something, right?" Takeru sighed, his expression fallen slightly.

Mimi spoke, her tone impelling Miyako's eyes to snap in her direction, where she saw the older girl looking on the verge of tears.

"Why did we have to loose Sora just to get that? How is it fair that everyone is feeling better now that she's gone?"

If there had been any doubt in Miyako's mind as to the cause of Mimi's earlier panic, it was erased now. There was silence in the room for a long time until Takeru finally broke it, his voice soft and face serious.

"It's amazing, really. Sora always finds a way to take care of us. To help us. Even if it means putting herself in danger." Mimi stared back at him, mouth open slightly. "I miss her a lot, Daisuke too, but now we have to focus on getting them back in any way we can."

The room returned to quiet, the only sound coming from Maria who, seeming to sense Mimi's unhappiness, stood guard at the door, rumbling growls emanating from her mouth.

"I left the written instructions for the financing spreadsheet on the kitchen table for you. Good luck."

And with that, Takeru let himself out of the apartment, the door making a resounding thud as it closed shut behind him.

* * *

 _4 years, 3 months, and 1 week ago_

Taichi had always enjoyed sakura season. Not so much for the Hanami parties that broke out under cherry trees wherever they could be found, and not even for the blossoms themselves, beautiful as they were. It was that everyone was happier during sakura season. Perhaps it was the ushering in of spring and summer, along with growth and life; or perhaps it was the air of celebration, but no matter, people's smiles seemed closer to the surface, even those who avoided the crowds and the parties, and Taichi liked seeing his friends and family happy.

As he sat in his living room one afternoon hunched over a video game controller next to his similarly bowed friend, the infectious air of festivity kept a smile on his face despite the fact that he was about to lose for the third time in a row. When the jingly music finally announced his failure, he leaned back in his seat, face lifted towards the ceiling as he sighed in frustration. Despite this, however, the corners of his mouth were still turned indomitably upwards.

"I told you you were getting soft." Yamato said from beside him. He let the controller fall to his lap.

Taichi rolled his head to face his friend, eyes narrowing.

"I'm not soft. I just didn't want Hikari to see me beat you too badly." He gestured to his sister, who sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. "It might have scarred her."

Hikari looked up from her paper, giving her brother an antipathetical look.

"Don't bring me into this. It's _your_ weird thing." She looked down to start reading again.

"Thanks for the backup." Taichi deadpanned, but his mood was still bright. "You want to talk about weird, you're reading the _newspaper_. What are you, like, eighty-five?"

She rolled her eyes, pretending to ignore his comment, but she was laughing softly under her breath. Taichi returned his attention to Yamato, who grinned smugly from his seat.

"And you." Taichi pointed a dramatic finger at Yamato. "I'm not going easy on you this time."

With that, Taichi grabbed his controller, and set to work restarting the game, Yamato waiting with fingers poised over his own controls, still trying, and largely failing, to maintain some degree of aloofness.

It was at that moment that the home phone that rested on the coffee table began to trill harshly. Taichi picked it up and put it to one ear, holding it there with his shoulder as he continued to fiddle with the game.

"Hello?"

"It won't open." It was Daisuke's voice that answered him on the other line.

"Excuse me?"

" _It won't open_." Daisuke said, with greater intensity.

"What do you mean?" Taichi found himself utterly confused at the conversation thus far.

"Jeez! And people say I'm the stupid one. I mean I tried to open it, and I couldn't. _It. Won't. Open!"_

Taichi felt his own anger build as Daisuke's seemed to.

"What won't open, Daisuke!?" He yelled.

At some point Taichi had dropped the controller and now held the phone firmly to his ear with one hand while the other balled into a fist.

"The digital gate!" Daisuke yelled back. For a long moment, there was silence on both sides of the line, then Daisuke, in a much weaker voice, spoke.

"The digital world is closed."

Taichi blanched. Without another word, he hung up the phone, his had resting on it as he stared off into space, lost in thought. Access to the digital world had been cut off the first time when they were no longer needed there, but they hadn't been needed in the digital world this time for years, and yet it remained open. So why would it close now?

It must be something wrong with Daisuke's Digivice, then; or with his computer. He had to notify Koushiro. He fumbled with the phone again, reaching for it so quickly that he dropped it, then picking it up with his fingers moving awkwardly and mashing buttons as if he were wearing thick wool mittens.

"What's going on, Taichi?" Yamato asked.

Taichi paused, suddenly remembering the presence of Yamato and Hikari, both of whom looked at him curiously. He glanced back and forth between the phone and the face of his best friend, unsure of what to say.

"Uh..." A series of emotions, from confidence to worry, and eventually to defeat, flashed across his face. Although the evidence was entirely anecdotal, somehow he sensed that they would keep encountering this problem. Though he had no idea why the digital world would suddenly become closed off to them, he became increasingly certain that this was the case. Somehow he knew he wouldn't be seeing Agumon again, anytime soon. He let the phone fall into his lap.

"I guess… We can't get back to the digital world."

* * *

"It's just like what happened the previous time, I just don't understand _why._ " There was unmistakable frustration in Koushiro's tone as he expatiated. He sat facing the screen of his laptop, hands clenching and unclenching where they rested on the desk. Ken, who sat just behind him, listened attentively.

"After the first time we left the digital world, we were unable to re-access it because we lacked the proper key—the D3s—to do so, so it stands to reason that something similar would have been the cause after your generation."

Ken nodded curtly.

Koushiro continued. "But it's been four years, and no new Chosen Children have surfaced. Also, the other communication pathways that were previously accessible stopped functioning then as well: our Digivices _,_ email with Gennai, everything. The first time at least our Digivices were able to send and receive signals."

"That's why my current hypothesis is that there's some kind of interference that's preventing us from connecting, and what happened earlier today seems to support that. My program has stopped functioning altogether. It's complete garbage now. But that at least suggests that something, or someone, is deliberately shutting us out of the digital world. So, somehow, we have to figure out what that might be, and why."

Ken inhaled slowly, staring pensively at the empty air in front of him. It was a while before he voiced his thoughts.

"Alright. It seems natural to use the messagess from Gennai as a starting point. The first one contained little relevant information, except maybe the part where he wrote 'I wondered why you hadn't been answering my emails'. That could mean something, right?"

"Well, at the very least it says that Gennai was able to send emails our way, so—inductively, of course - we can suppose that any interference is on our end." Koushiro speculated.

Ken nodded in agreement.

"That fits with his second message, which said that there was nothing really out of the ordinary in the digital world. It also said that any number of Digimon would have power enough to put people into comas in some way or another, so I guess that's… reassuring?" It still didn't really give them an idea of how to undo it, but Ken would take any piece of helpful information right now. His desperation to do _something_ now that there was a sliver of hope was overwhelming.

"I suppose so."

They both returned to their own thoughts for some time, Koushiro tapping idly on the edge of the desk and Ken again staring into space.

"If there were a Digimon with a vendetta against us in Tokyo, why wouldn't it have revealed itself by now? Wouldn't someone have noticed it if it's been here for four years?"

Koushiro looked at Ken with eyes narrowed and mouth pressed into a thoughtful line.

"What is it that we're missing?"

 **Not a proper hypothesis, but I guess Koushiro's using it in a more figure of speech type of way. That's what I'm telling myself anyways… Maria is inspired by my brother's cat, who is probably the meanest cat ever, but still one of my favourite cats. I love cats.**

 **As always, I'd love to hear what everyone thinks so far. I'm trying to use this as a learning experience, so feedback of any sort is welcomed. Thank you so much for reading.**


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